


The Promise of Light in the Dark Days

by Book7BrokeMyBrain



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Christmas, M/M, Secret Snarry Swap 2011, Solstice, Yule
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2018-01-21 01:52:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1533317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Book7BrokeMyBrain/pseuds/Book7BrokeMyBrain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A rare disease clears out Hogwarts at Yuletide, giving Harry and Severus time together. For prompt #34 I included 'Silver bells', 'alone at Hogwarts for the holidays' 'angst', and a bit of your other preferences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Promise of Light in the Dark Days

**Author's Note:**

  * For [starduchess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starduchess/gifts).



> Beta'd by Asnowyowl. Thank you! All remaining errors are my own.

 

Harry lay bound to the infirmary bed, thrashing in delirium, his forearms bracketing his head, hands tied to the cold metal frame of the cot. His feet were likewise spread and secured so he couldn't scratch, couldn't rupture the lesions of magical ichor covering his body. Poppy Pomfrey was glad Potter was insensate at the moment, as the itching must be intolerable.

“Is there nothing else?” Hermione asked, knuckle to her mouth.

“I'm afraid not. No magical interference.”

“What about Muggle medicine for the fever? He's burning.”

“No. Nothing. If he lasts long enough, the lumps will be drained by lancing with the points of holly leaves, but he hasn't reached that stage yet. Poor thing will have to ride it out. He'll either improve or worsen.”

The two women stood over the bed, powerless to help.

“The Pure Yule Lance. Leave it to Potter to contract the first case in a century.” Severus Snape swept to a stop at the bedside.

Hermione dabbed her eyes. “Hello, Professor.”

“He uncovered it repairing your dungeons, Severus,” Poppy scolded. “Merlin knows what other pockets of disease lay buried down there. Just be thankful your House of Purebloods never brushed up against it. Might have decimated their numbers.”

Indeed, Harry Potter had been one of few to attack the shoring up of the stinking, collapsed Slytherin dungeons. He and Hermione had levitated a chunk of inner wall when a shimmering slick of magic oozed like a mist from the exposed earth and made straight for The Boy Who Lived. If they had uncovered it at any other time but December, it might not have infected anyone, but this was a disease that struck at the darkest time of year, before the winter solstice, and infected old magic. Muggleborns seemed immune, from historical reports, their magic too new and perhaps too powerfully fresh, having sprung spontaneously from the Earth. Harry had two magical parents, and took the full brunt of the infection.

So here it was, in the weeks approaching the Yule, and Hogwarts was effectively quarantined and evacuated, only a few staff remaining who would not be infected. Hagrid and Flitwick, Pomfrey and Filch. Snape, of course. Hermione came and went without fear, but Neville, Ron and all the Weasleys kept far away. Draco had been part of the rebuild, but flew off faster than a snidget at the first whisper of the Pure Yule Lance.

It looked to be a quiet and lonely Christmas this winter at Hogwarts.

Snape settled on the edge of the bed, next to Harry's hip. “I've never seen such a fever.” Harry's skin glowed with a ruddy Darkness wherever the lesions appeared. Snape reached out a hand and rested it over the young man's forehead. Harry sighed and turned into the touch of his cool fingers and palm.

Poppy considered the action. “Severus, lay your hands on the worst of the vesicles, if you will. It can't hurt. He seems to like it.”

Hermione's face crumpled, and she shook her head. “I'm sorry. It's just so sad. Excuse me.” She turned and hurried away.

~~~

  
The first thing Harry heard when he woke was Hagrid and Filch hanging Yuletide greenery in the infirmary. They chatted back and forth, businesslike, about what pest repellants to order for the spring, as they draped garlands along the walls, and hung clusters of sleigh bells that jingled softly as they moved. Mrs. Norris meowed and rubbed herself against the foot of Harry's bed.

Harry sat up. He was in standard-issue Hogwarts pajamas. He vaguely recalled being attacked by the infection, and the day or so leading up to feeling very unwell indeed. He remembered being so tired that he understood why animals might go find a nice place to lie down and die, and not mind it in the least. At the time, dying seemed like the thing to do. He pushed his sleeves up, and his pant legs, and saw the crusty scabs. At least they didn't itch anymore. He remembered the infernal itching. It was as if his magic had been erupting slowly like magma from his very core, crawling like fire ants under his skin.

When Hagrid turned and saw him, he had nothing but a huge grin for Harry, as ever.

~~~

  
Hogwarts in winter can be dreary and gray, but this Yule seemed especially cold and dull. Harry tried to find the most colorful places to while away the hours following his illness when the afternoons could drag like weeks.

Harry spent a lot of time alone in those December days. The infirmary was empty but for Madame Pomfrey breezing about. Although, Professor Snape was a surprisingly frequent visitor.

The infirmary was gaily decorated and pleasant, and Professor Snape would come by every morning, sit on the edge of Harry's bed and talk about inconsequential things. Harry had rarely heard the man speak normally before, without sarcasm or anger tingeing his words. Harry appreciated being treated like an adult, since he'd felt like one for ages already.

When the chit-chat ran out, the awkward silences began. There was so much between them, so much to say, but Harry was uneasy, and started roaming the castle alone to pass the time once he realized Madame Pomfrey wasn't keeping him prisoner there.

Harry liked the clock tower. The giant works made comforting sounds, and the bells chimed at odd times of the day. When he was eleven, and at Hogwarts for his first magical Christmas, he wondered why the bells rang on the afternoon of December 21. Professor Flitwick had stopped next to him as he stared quizzically at the clock face, and explained that the bells rang to signify the passing phases of the year. From that moment until June 21, he explained cheerfully, the days would be getting longer with more and more sunshine.

That pleased young Harry immensely. He felt it gave him a tiny bit of control over his world. He'd smiled at the thought of the promise of spring and summer, and never forgot about the increasing light, even in the bitterly cold storms of January and February. Hearing the bells ring hourly, daily, monthly, grounded him when the rest of the world seemed insane and insufferable. When he found out about Remus's lycanthropy, he added watching the phases of the moon to his private earthly comforts.

So he stood looking out the windows, through the hands of the clock as they moved past, at the falling snow blown into curtains by the wind, while the carillon pealed so loudly he felt the vibrations move through him. He'd never felt more a part of a place, of the school he loved, than that moment.

He heard the clearing of a throat, and turned to find Snape standing behind him.

“Oh. Hello.”

“Hello.” Snape moved right next to Harry, looking out the window. “Quite the storm today.”

“Tomorrow the grounds will look pretty.”

“Yes.”

The silence stretched. Harry turned to Snape.

“So... Christmas is coming soon.”

“Yes.”

“I never really got the hang of Christmas until I came to school. Holidays at the Dursley's were pretty awful for anyone but them. Actually, pretty terrific for anyone but me. To be precise.”

Snape continued to stare at the storm. “Christmas,” he pronounced, “is bollocks.”

Harry laughed aloud. “No, it's not!”

“It is.” He said it with such certainty that Harry almost believed him out of habit. “It's based on a conglomeration of ancient holidays and religions, all blended into one day of horrifically forced jubilation.”

“I'll agree with you there. I never really felt cheerful on the day, then I felt bad because I wasn't. And buying gifts was always such a chore. I never know what to get anyone.”

“My strategy was to simply play to the recipient's basest vices. Alcohol and sweets usually sufficed.”

“Brilliant.” Harry smiled as he resumed staring out the window.

“And the New Year isn't any better.”

Harry smiled to himself.

~~~

  
Harry sat at the top of the Slytherin stands in the middle of a very clear, very dark night. He tipped his head back and stared at the stars. He heard a small noise, but wasn't startled.

“Hello. How do you always know where to find me?”

Snape sat near him, surveying the pitch, the rings standing high over a blanket of snow. “That's for me to know. What are you doing in this section, Potter?”

“Well, I have the run of the place, pretty much. I'm just enjoying seeing the school from every vantage point I can. Who's going to stop me, right?”

“Who ever could?”

“I was just thinking about that time in my first year, when we thought you were hexing my broom. You were sitting right about here.” Harry looked at his Professor sheepishly. “Sorry Hermione set you on fire. That was a bit extreme.”

“Needs must,” Snape said dryly.

“Yes. Well, thanks.” Harry sat forward and wrung his hands. “You know, Professor--”

“I'd like you to call me Severus, if you would.”

“You would? I would, I mean I will then. All right. Severus. And you ought to call me Harry.” He recollected his thoughts. “What I've wanted to say to you for a while now, regarding the war, and everything--”

“Don't. I know. I'd rather not rehash the past. I'd rather move on.”

“Will you? Move on? I mean, you aren't the Head anymore. Don't you think you might... move on? To something else? Someplace better?”

Snape sighed and looked toward the castle. “I don't feel like I need to. I like it here. So many memories. I'd like to make some better ones in a place I loved, and where I felt at home.”

“I understand. I love it here, too. Especially now, so deserted, so peaceful. I'm enjoying our talks so much. Thank you for the company.” Harry ducked his head.

“It's my pleasure, Harry. Truly. I wonder if this isn't the time to tell you, but... I've felt something between us since you came back here. The more we talk, the more I get to know you....” Snape reached out his hand toward Harry's, but Harry shifted away.

“Severus, Professor, if you are suggesting a romantic relationship,” Harry sighed, “I don't know if that would work. As much as I respect you, and enjoy your company....”

Snape was crestfallen. “What is it? What is the biggest obstacle? Are you not interested in men at all? Am I too old? Too poor? Too unattractive?”

“No! None of that! It's – it's none of that.” Harry sighed in frustration.

“Is it my scars?” His hand rose to his throat. “I know they're hideous.”

“No! Not at all.” Harry winced as he looked. “Do they bother you? Do you feel them?”

“No. Painless. Just horrible to see.”

“Severus, if things were different.... I do care about you a great deal. I have before I even knew you were my Half-Blood Prince. I always had to admit that you were a striking-looking man, even when you were being so horrible to me. It's not that.” Harry gazed regretfully, mournfully. “How about we let things go for a while, and see what happens? The last thing I want is to hurt you, or upset you, when I admire you in so many ways. Is that all right?”

Snape nodded slowly. “Yes. Acceptable. Much better than an outright rejection, I suppose.”

The clock tower chimed the late hour. Harry and Severus made their way back to the castle.

~~~

  
The small population of the castle gathered in the Great Hall for supper on Christmas night. The Head, the staff, Hermione and Ron mingled over drinks and small talk, surrounded by the bounteous evergreen decorations. Swags and ribbons, icicles and silver bells, mistletoe and kissing boughs covered every surface. Charmed ornaments played sweet, music box variations of carols.

Harry and Severus stood together before the grandest tree, while Hermione watched them optimistically from across the room, Ron's arm about her waist.

“My friends are very nosy, aren't they?”

“I think Miss Granger is hoping for us to begin something tonight. She wants happiness above all else for you, Harry. In that, she and I agree.”

“Every time we move near a sprig of mistletoe she gets all expectant. I've tried to tell her gently that we're just friends for now.”

Severus moved closer. “Would you allow me one kiss? Just one to sustain me until you decide that we might have more?” He reached out to touch Harry's face, but Harry recoiled.

“Please don't. I don't want to hurt you.”

Longing passed over Severus's face. “You liked it once, when I touched you. When you were ill.”

“I was unconscious. I don't remember. But Madame Pomfrey told me what happened.” Harry paused, considering, then pressed on gravely, as Hermione started making her way toward them. “All right. One kiss. Why don't you pick a berry?”

Face filling with anticipation, Severus focused on the kissing bough, chose a berry and reached long fingers for it. His hand passed right through. He tried again. He cried out softly in anguish.

“What? Why?” he whispered in horror. Hermione and Ron stopped a discreet distance away, as pain filled Harry's face witnessing Severus try again and again, unable to grasp. “I don't understand!”

“When I was ill, I liked your touch because it was cold against the fever. I'm so sorry, Severus, but you died from your wound that night.”

“Oh, God.” His hands went to his throat again. When they pulled away they were covered in silvery bloodstains. “Oh. Oh, no. How -- how did I not know? Harry....” He looked at the gathering small crowd, humiliated. Then he fled. He whooshed away in a silvery blur through the Entrance Hall.

“Severus! Wait!” Harry cried. He ran to the courtyard, Hermione, Ron and others following. Harry looked about and found Severus standing on the far side of the fountain. He joined him.

“I see now,” Severus whispered. “I understand.”

“I'm so sorry, Severus. I'm sorry I had to do that, shock you. I think it was the only way.”

“Harry,” Hermione said softly. “You're absolutely right about Professor Snape. I think you are the only person who could have broken through. It's because he loves you. It's okay, we've all known for a while. It's rather obvious the way you look at each other.”

Harry looked back at Severus. “It's true.”

“So, Harry, look at me. What's different?” Hermione asked.

Harry puzzled over that, but looked at his friend. “Oh! You got a haircut! It's nice. Makes your eyes look big.”

“Yes!” Hermione smoothed her hand over the back of her closely cropped curls.

“And what about me?” Ron added.

Harry peered closely. “You look tired. You ought to get more sleep. And you've put on a few pounds.”

“Yeah. So I have,” Ron replied ruefully. “Working on that.”

“And where are we standing, Harry?” Hermione continued.

“In the courtyard. In the snow. What's with all the weird questions?”

“And what are you wearing?”

Harry looked down. “Pajamas.” He looked up again. “And bare feet. Hermione, why am I in pajamas and bare feet? In the snow? I'm not cold!”

Severus and Hermione glanced at each other. Severus moved up behind Harry and carefully, gently grasped his shoulders. Harry jumped as Hermione bit back a sob.

“Harry,” Severus sighed, leaning his forehead to the back of Harry's messy hair.

“You can touch me? But you're-- you're a ghost!”

“Apparently we are the same. I can see that now. Can't you?” Severus said.

Harry turned back to his friends.

“Harry, mate, you didn't make it. We lost you for a while. Then you came back,” Ron explained.

“Oh, Harry, we were heart-broken, but it was almost worse when you returned and you didn't seem to understand that you'd passed.” Hermione wrung her hands. “You and the Professor both. Neither of you could see the truth. You'd always appear in the infirmary on the anniversary of your death and stay until after Christmas, then disappear until the next year. Ron and I have been visiting at Christmas every year just to check on you. Neville, here,” she turned and reached out to the man, pulling him forward, “See? Neville is Headmaster now. He's been keeping tabs on you and Professor Snape. You two are always inseparable during your appearances, Harry. We've been watching you court each other every Yule for twenty years, now, and you've been completely oblivious to reality. Until tonight. I think tonight your affection for each other was enough to break through the veil, somehow.”

Severus continued to clutch Harry's shoulders, head bowed as he listened.

Harry looked down at the ground, at the field of unbroken snow in which he and Severus stood, up at a distinguished Neville, at his middle-aged friends. He laughed a half-mad titter, and ran a hand through his hair. Then he turned in Severus's arms and embraced him, feeling strong arms around him, feeling loved, as the bells chimed the hour.

~~~

  
Harry and Severus haunted the castle together after that night. Neville had them for chats in his office. When Rose and Hugo came to school, they had ghostly uncles to watch over them.

Many years later, the time came when no living soul on Earth remembered them, and they were not spotted in the school again. They were off on their next great adventure together, always.

  
  


-The End-


End file.
